Author Archives: Eugie Foster

Okay, we went to a matinée showing of Van Helsing, scalding reviews notwithstanding. We didn’t expect brilliance, just shiny special effects and pretty people. Which is what we got.

Kate Beckinsale is drool-worthy. Or her outfit is. Or her boots. I don’t care. The whole package was stunning. I want that corset. And that bolero jacket. And those boots. Did I mention the boots? Ahem. She was an absolutely stunning Anna Valerious. Also worth noting was the actor who played her brother, especially as he was mostly shirtless through all of his scenes. Purr.

Then there was Hugh Jackman. More drool. Amazing the floor in front of my seat at the theater wasn’t all soppy wet. I would have liked more shirtless scenes with him in them, though. But that is a pretty, pretty man. Rowr.

And the brides of Dracula with their diaphanous gowns that metamorphosis into leathery wings. They too were lovely eye candy. And I liked how they morphed from winged bat furies to seductive vampesses.

Okay, those were the main highlights. There were other good bits. But then there were the shortcomings, the copious shortcomings.

Continue reading →

Hobkin is crashed out on my lap. We actually turned on the A/C last night, taking pity on the poor fuzzy beastie. He’s wearing a thick, fur coat after all. He kept flopping on the hardwood floor, looking quite pitiful in the heat. Freaky week, temperature-wise. The heater went off on Monday from the cold, and we switched on the A/C on Friday.

Saturday morning cartoons on. Teen Titans and now Xiaolin Showdown. Eastern culture really has infiltrated American entertainment.

Watched Intolerable Cruelty, the 2003 Coen brothers production with George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones. And I sez, where’s the quirk? Have the Coens gone totally mainstream? Okay, romantic comedies aren’t a great canvas for quirkiness, and there were some clever moments, but where was the twist, the trademark bizarre humor, the screwball antics? Humph. Predictable predictable predictable. Although both main actors were, of course, stunningly beautiful.

Plan to see Van Helsing sometime this weekend, either today or tomorrow. Don’t have high expectations, but looking forward to wallowing in a couple hours of pretty people and pretty special effects. Escapism, rah.

Writing stuff:

Received word from the editor of Here & Now that issue 5 with my story “When the Lights Go out” is slated for the end of August.

Six crits so far of my current offering at Critters. Tally: one critter liked my tense switch experiment and one thought I was doing it on accident and pointed them out as errors. Sigh.

I’m having a rough time getting words on the page. Depressing and irksome.

Hobkin was sick to his tummy again last night, the poor little fuzz ball. He has such a sensitive system! And he’s gotten quite finicky about his food choices. He’s been turning up his nose at celery and cucumber (!) of late. Fed him some anti-nausea meds and a Pepto Bismol sandwich, and he was all better, but I continue to fret.

Matthew theorizes that we’re all passing some sort of flu around, back and forth, from skunk to human. Every time Hobkin’s been ill, one or both of us humans have also felt unsettled in the gastro-intestinal vicinity. I hope that’s the case, because then at least there’d be a chance of getting rid of it once and for all . . . eventually. I’d much rather it be something acute (albeit tenacious) rather than a chronic condition.

And, as a segue, I feel queasy.

Writing stuff:

Received the contracts for “Razi and the Sunbird,” “When Shakko Did Not Lie,” and “The Snow Woman’s Daughter” from Cricket today. Woohoo! The Cricket contract isn’t as nice as the one for Cicada (they’re getting some non-exclusive rights w/o further compensation, versus an additional fee) but considering the pay rate, I don’t care! All three are signed and going in the mail tomorrow. But still no publication date set. Sigh.

I’ve got a story up for critique at Critters.org. Forgot it was going up this week. This was also a mild experiment in style. I switch–intentionally even–from past to present and back to past tense in it. It’s a scene thing. We’ll see if it worked or if readers find it annoying. I did notice that my file appears to have been corrupted in the upload. I have large sections of text underlined to indicate italics, and it appears that my underline markers have gone berserk. It’s still legible, but certainly distracting. Dammit.

Also looked up MLA/APA reference citation styles again. Proactively created references for the next two folk tales I’ll be sending to Cricket. Going to send them with my submission this time. I do learn from editorial feedback, la!

It’s also a good indication of me procrastinating on the new words front since I’m wallowing gleefully in assembling business materials instead of putting words on the page. I console myself that it’s good work to get done regardless.

Been having recurring dreams whereupon I’m either struggling to remember a numerical combination–usually to a school locker or a padlock–or panicked because I haven’t studied properly for an impending test. Hmm. What would Jung say? That I’m experiencing a fear of loosing or forgetting something, as well as feelings of unpreparedness and/or inadequacy, perhaps? Piffle. Me, I say my meds balance is wonky again. Stupid brain.

Hobkin has been having dreams too. Along with his paws twitching, his tail flicks around and occasionally his nose wiggles. It’s quite adorable. I do wonder what imagery fills the dreamscape of that little fuzzy head of his.

And, on that note, go look at the sock puppets a few enterprising creative writing students made of Neil Gaiman’s Endless family. Oh. My. God. Sock puppets.

Writing stuff:

Read and wrote a review of Christopher Rowe’s story “The Voluntary State” in Sci-Fiction for Tangent. This was a tricky appraisal to write, as this story is so intricate, full of subtext and symbolism. Wasn’t sure if I was being too reflective or not enough. But the story is excellent, even if it did leave me blinking and dazed by the end of it.

Matthew first-readered my Chinese creation myth re-telling. Sigh. My hubby is a wonderful, intelligent, articulate, well-read person. But he just doesn’t grok fairy/folk tales. They leave him cold. But I still value his thoughts on the technical aspects. Will definitely be adjusting the story as per some of his suggestions to bring it to first draft. But now I’m really wrestling with myself as to whether or not I need to be sending my children’s lit stories up to Critters. I seem to have a decent grasp on where I’m at with them, and I’m selling ones that I’ve skipped the Critters step with as successfully as those that I send through the queue. Ponder ponder.

Saw Kill Bill 2 yesterday. Aside from residual feelings of queasiness from too much greasy popcorn, I quite enjoyed myself. I think this is spoiler-free, but just in case: Continue reading →

Went to britzkrieg and rigel_kent‘s wedding last night. It was beautiful. Held in their huge screened-in porch, surrounded by the trees in their sylvan backyard, it was very sacred grove. Matthew and I were honored to do a reading at the ceremony: Nikki Giovanni’s “You Came, Too.” I sat on my fear of public speaking, although to tell the truth, it didn’t particularly trouble me (once I got past the first line). Since Matthew and I were doing a duet, most of the phobia tremors didn’t manifest. Matthew’s my rock. I can do just about anything as long as he’s beside me.

Then there was food and wine. B&J had arranged for quite an elaborate spread. And since britzkrieg is also a vegetarian, there was a slew of veggie-friendly offerings. And the dancing. Matthew and I don’t get many opportunities to dance anymore. We totally enjoyed ourselves. And now my feet hurt. That’s always a sign of fun had.

I think Hobkin’s sulking, though. He’s been pouting under his hutch. More worrisome, he didn’t eat his breakfast. Going to see about coaxing him to eat, and if he doesn’t, then it’s meds and a Pepto Bismol sandwich for him.

Heard through the Skunk Chat grapevine that one of Hobkin’s Godmother’s skunks died last week. Very sad. She’s not up for calls or visitors, which I completely understand. Going to see about sending a sympathy card on Monday. I wish our beloved fuzzy companions would live as long as us.

Writing Stuff:

Got a rejection from Leading Edge. The note starts out (after the “thanks for letting us see your story . . . blah blah blah”) “Your story was accepted by the staff readers”–which got my adrenalin all pumping, thinking I had an acceptance letter in my hands. But then it went on to say “and passed on to the editors for further consideration. Although we have decided not to use it . . .” Sigh. They did ask for more and called it “quality work.” Grumble. Out it goes again.

Also received a postcard from Cricket saying they’d received my current submission–the same submission the editor had asked for resource material for via email. Hee.

The fire alarm went off this morning at my place of business. It wasn’t a drill. Sirens blared and two fire engines came swooping in (they were white and yellow too, not red–what’s up with that?). I hadn’t had my coffee yet so I’m not quite sure how I ended up in the parking lot with the other cluster of mostly-annoyed, somewhat puzzled employees. I do remember debating whether I should take my purse or my coffee with me when the claxon sounded. I ended up with my purse, but I wish I’d had enough neurons firing to have thought to take both. By the time it was determined that the alarm was set off by a malfunctioning fire sensor and the fire engines ambled away, my coffee was cold.

Sigh.

Slept something like ten hours last night and awoke in a daze, unsure if I was still asleep or actually awake as I’d spent much of my AM R.E.M. sleep dreaming about waking up. I hate that.

Trimmed Hobkin’s nails last night. I waited until he was curled up in my lap, looking for all the world like a lumpy, four-legged pillow before gently grasped one of his limp paws. Without even cracking an eye open, he snatched it away and immediately rolled over so all four paws were curled beneath him. How did he know?? I’ve been fiddling with his paws when he’s asleep to get him used to them being handled, and he’s been letting me. But he knew, even in his comatose state, he knew! There’s a lot going on in that wee brain of his. I still managed to get sixteen out of twenty toes trimmed. My brain is bigger than his. Hah!

Very ready for the weekend. Looking forward to britzkrieg and rigel_kent‘s wedding tomorrow and rehearsal dinner tonight. Melting Pot fondue. Yum.

Writing stuff:

Did a lot of research on the Chinese goddess Nu Wa and her brother Fu Xi. I thought I needed an angle to adapt the myth for a younger audience and kept coming up with nothing but circles. Then I had some sugar and realized that children like circles. So I set to work. 1800 words later, I’ve completed the zero draft. Going to make Matthew first reader it (although he’s not a big fan of fairy/folk tales or mythology), and then debate whether I want to bother sending it through Critters. When I’ve polished it to a nice, steady shine, it’ll go into the queue of “stories to submit to Cricket.”

Also got a rejection from Talebones. The editor wrote “Good, but not for us” at the bottom of the form letter, and also apologized for the extra long response time. Another “good but no” for this particular story, which is still one of my favorites. Dammit. I will find a home for this baby . . .

Got a call from my Pulmonary doctor. My CAT scan looked clear except for a bit of gland swelling that could be attributable to anything. And my PFT was fine too. The doctor has ordered a diaphragm capacity test, but he’s speculating, since we’re running out of physical causes, that my breathing issues might be due to stress. Hmmm. I guess that’s a good thing. Kind of. Except I don’t feel all that stressed and I’m not sure what to do about it if it is stress.

Writing stuff:

My Tangent reviews of the Sci-Fiction stories “Flight Risk” and “Elvis in the Attic” are up.

Did another couple hundred words on the SF piece. Limping along with this one. Where’s the momentum, I sez? Think I might switch back to doing a folk/fairy tale. Need the speedy gratification. Researching Chinese creation myths and trying to figure out a good way to tell it to a young audience.

Received an email from the editor of Cricket/Cicada which is a first. We’ve only corresponded before via snail mail. She requested I send her my source material for the story I submitted to Cricket on Friday. Spent an hour or so sorting my notes, citing my references in a reasonable semblance of APA/MLA style, and stuck everything in the mail.

But couple of things to make me go “woo!” from this. 1. It’s proof that she’s plucking my stories out of their slush pile. I mailed it on Friday and she’d already read it by Tuesday! 2. She’s interested enough in the story to want my references. 3. It’s an oblique indication of our maturing business relationship that she trusts me with her email address!

It’s amazing how happy a simple business email can make me.

Also devoured a jumbo-sized pixie stick after dinner which stoked my muse. I had a minor epiphany (along with a sugar rush) and realized where I was taking the SF story I started. Happily hammered out a couple hundred words, and then it was like a valve had shut off in my mind. I was cut off; no more words for me. But I figured out where the story’s going. That’s worth an unruly muse or two, isn’t it?

The story’s a new experiment in style for me. I’m writing it in first person present tense. I’m very comfortable with first person. Actually, I find it easier to write first than third. But this whole present tense thing is new. When I realized what I’d done, I tried to go back and put what I had down into past, but I couldn’t. This story has to be told in present. We’ll see what happens.

Also had a submission pass the initial round of reading at NFG. The story goes to the editorial hoard for torture and interrogation next. I usually make it past the first round, but I’ve yet to have a story survive the group grilling. Faint-hearted manuscripts. Must write them sturdier, it seems.

And finally, wrote and sent off a review for Tangent of “Elvis in the Attic” by Catherine M. Morrison in Sci-Fiction.